


Copper On My Tongue

by magdalyna



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Age Difference, Bloodplay, Incest, M/M, Minor Character Death, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-16
Updated: 2013-01-16
Packaged: 2017-11-25 17:11:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,653
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/641213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magdalyna/pseuds/magdalyna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek and Peter stumble onto an interesting playmate while trying to keep a low profile.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Copper On My Tongue

And at first it’s to scare the sheriff of this county they’ve found themselves in, because they’ve had to relocate a few counties over and Peter is bored.

But the note doesn’t go on the evidence board at the station (security systems in out of the way places are so easy to work around, especially their cameras), no, Stiles hides it in his room, and isn’t that interesting, Derek?

So they start following Stiles, this curious thing. 

Because aside from that best friend, he doesn’t seem to have many close ties, likes to spend his time holed up in his room or out in the woods. 

Peter decides they should take the chance, after a few weeks of careful watching. The bodies around the area are piling up, and Peter wants to play a game before they have to move on. 

Derek is a little jealous, because this kid isn’t anything, should mean nothing to Peter - he’s killed with Peter, for Peter. Isn’t that more intimate than sex?

So let Peter toy with his food. Derek’s itching to be swallowed up in another city anyway.

Only, when Stiles tracks them from the note, like Peter had hoped for, he comes alone. Like they’d asked, and isn’t that interesting?

*

“Jaropełk, good evening.” Peter says, pronunciation almost perfect. Derek should know, Peter had been practicing ever since they started following the boy.

“It’s Stiles, actually.” the boy shrugs.

“You’ve caught his eye.” Derek says.

“Do I now?” the boy’s eyes slide from Derek to Peter, curious.

“I have the rest of him.” Derek says mildly. Whether the boy is willing or not, by the time they’re in San Francisco the boy’s body will already be decomposing.  
The boy looks back to him quickly.

“Now, now, Derek, no need to be rude.” Peter says. “Forgive my nephew, he’s territorial.” he smiles. The boy’s eyes widen slightly.

“Gonna tell me what this is all about?” the boy waves the notes. It’s Derek’s turn to smile.

“We think you might like to hunt with us.” he says, showing his teeth.

“You mean kill people.” the boy says flatly.

“Among other things.” Peter says, examining his nails.

The boy flushes an interesting red, Derek thinks. He wonders then what the boy would look like covered in his own blood. How - no, no, the boy isn’t their prey like that. The boy is a toy, an idle distraction. Prey is different.

“You mean you aren’t curious as to what we do with them?” Derek asks.

“I’ve seen the files.” the boy huffs.

“Dry academic dissection, you mean. Clinical detachment, none of the thrill, the blood in your hands.” Peter waves the idea off. “Wouldn’t you like to learn, Stiles?” Peter’s voice sounds like sin now and it’s making Derek harden reflexively, remembering that voice in other contexts.

Wait. Learn?

The boy looks stunned.

“You don’t hide your dump site in the woods very well, kid.” Derek says. They had picked over the boy’s usual haunts, nearly tripping over the stash of bones - raccoon and possum. Peter had fucked him next to them.

Derek should have seen this coming, should have seen that Peter wanted a pupil not just a toy.

This changes things. It has too, right?

*

“Is this, are you two trying to proposition me?” the boy asks. 

“Yes.” Peter says simply. 

“Is it working?” Derek asks. If it isn’t they can just kill him after Peter has his fun. The boy would look good with a knife sticking out of his belly, but Derek thinks most people would be improved with this feature. 

“What, you two gonna take me to an ice-cream social and give me your pins?” the boys snarks. 

That’s not close to a no, Derek thinks.

“I’m sure something could be arranged.” Peter smiles.

“Ever been fucked in a pool of blood?” Derek asks. At Peter’s glance he decides he should clarify that. “Not yours, of course.” 

The boy looks at him, an eyebrow raised. “Of course, huh?” he says the ‘huh’ slowly, clearly unimpressed with that ‘of course’ Derek tacked on. 

“These woods are overcrowded with deer this time of year. How about you two gentlemen find me a pool of blood?” the boy says, eyebrow still raised. 

“We would be delighted.” Peter says, licking his lips. 

Derek decides spending time with the boy might be vaguely interesting after all. 

*

They fuck him in a pool of blood.

The buck had been easy to stalk, even with a noisy untrained boy.

The boy had watched as Derek slit its throat, the buck already brought down from slashes to its legs.

The boy is positioned so that every thrust of Peter’s hips pushes him to the body a little bit, on his belly in the warm blood. The boy writhes under Peter, his orgasm bleeding the tension out of the lines of his body. 

Derek takes his mouth after Peter comes inside the boy, and it’s a marvelous hot slickness around his cock.

He comes on the boy’s face and watches his come mingle with the blood near the boy’s mouth.

The blood is always tedious to clean off (and a big part of Derek is resentful they have to) but they had taken off their clothes before too much happened, so those at least are fairly clean.

“Well you two certainly know how to show a boy a good time.” the boy is amused. He still has Derek’s come on his face but the blood is gone.

“This is nothing.” Peter says. But it is something, or Peter would have gutted the boy after Derek painted his face with incriminating bodily fluids.

“So you say.” the boy says.

“If you’re curious to see what else we do, meet us in a week.” Peter says when they get back.

The boy gives them a jaunty salute and gets into the junker of a jeep he drives.

“I didn’t know you were bored of me.” Derek says as they watch the boy drive off.

“Maybe I thought you wanted to show me all you’ve learned by my side.” Peter chides.

“Are we going to kill him, then?” Derek asks.

“I haven’t decided.” Peter admits. “I quite like the idea of molding him, only to tear him down. It would be … sporting, would it not? For him to know what’s coming?”

“Sporting.” Derek nods, smiles slowly. 

*

During the week they stalk their next hunt. They vary their kills, so there’s no one population the police can work with, no set kind of victim. The blood bath tends to stick out, anyway.

Peter fucks him, nice and slow one night. It’s good, it always is, but it’s just them in their clean bed, no blood but what Peter scratches out of his back. 

They always have these … unsatisfying bouts of sex between kills. The buck didn’t count, not even with the novelty of a willing boy between them, writhing in blood like it was silk.

Derek is used to the lull. 

He dreams about using a knife on the boy, sometimes. A knife instead of his cock, a knife in his belly just as the boy gets off, or just when he spills inside the boy. All have merit. 

He wonders, too, what the boy would look like after a hunt, all that blood on him. Would his eyes shine with lust like Peter’s? With what Derek has come to think of as mania, like him? 

The week seems to drag. 

Finally, the boy arrives, alone, in worn clothes.

“How good of you to join us.” Peter is smiling. 

“Here’s the first lesson: Catch.” Derek tosses the boy a roll of duct tape. 

*

It’s good. Really good, which surprised Derek. The boy obviously makes some mistakes, but easily corrected ones. 

Peter fondles the boy as Derek works the prey over, blood ribboning out. The duct tape on the mouth is loose in places, but that’s alright. It’s more for the prey than anything. This one is still alive and is looking at the boy with sad eyes. Though ‘alive’ indicates so much more than what is actually happening. 

Peter’s hand is bloody as he jerks off the boy and the boy can only squirm and gasp.

“Stiles, would you like the honors?” Derek asks, pausing his work. 

The boy takes the knife with shaky hands, erection bobbing as he slices the throat deeply. 

Derek takes him into his mouth easily and it doesn’t take long for the boy to come. 

Clean-up is a silent thing for them, and the boy copies Derek’s steps.

When they get back, Peter fucks the boy while Derek feeds him his cock, and the boy digs half-moons into his thighs. 

“He’s good.” Derek offers after the boy leaves them.

“Hmm.” Peter allows, noncommittal. 

“If we end up keeping him, it’s your fault.” Derek says, so they’re clear on this. 

“Children are never the answer to a lover’s spat, Derek, you know that.” Peter is droll, flicking the page of the paper he’s reading. 

“Do you want me to be jealous?” Derek asks.

“I want many things, Derek. Your jealousy is just an amusing one. Haven’t I shown I intend to share?” Peter counters. 

“Are we keeping him then?” Derek thinks he knows.

“Maybe I want to drag out the game, keep it interesting.” Peter smiles. 

That wasn’t what he was expecting.

“That is interesting.” Derek decides. Taking the boy with them, then playing with him, hunting him? It was dizzying. 

“I thought you might agree.” Peter beckons him closer, drags him in for a kiss.

*

The boy is 17, technically not a boy anymore. Derek is 25 and feels ancient against his careful naivety, his wide doe eyes and unmarked body. 

The boy is older than he was when Peter started this at any rate. 

Older than Derek was when his entire family, save for Peter, went up in flame along with their home. 

Peter had been driving him home from swim practice one summer evening when Derek was 14 and by the time they got to the house the orange flare was sparkling with neon reds and blues. 

Laura’s body was a breathing mass of char, she didn’t make the night. 

Of course Peter got custody; he was 15 years older than Derek. And Derek refused to be separated from him. 

Derek can remember Saturday afternoons spent napping on Peter as Peter watched old B movies on the local channels. Remembers begging Peter to teach him how to ride a bike.  
Derek remembers how they woke up that first morning, terribly alone. Tangled in each other in a motel room with Derek rutting against Peter while Peter had a hand barely resting on Derek’s hip to steady him in his sleep.

They both had been hard and Derek had bitten his lip so hard it drew blood. “Please.” He’d whispered and Peter had narrowed his eyes for a moment before sliding his hand from Derek’s hip to rest between them, encircling both their erections.

Peter had kissed him after they came, a mad thing, a hungry thing. When they broke away Peter had blood on his mouth. 

They left town as fast as possible and the killing started not much after that. 

*

The boy shows up a few days later. 

Derek looks at the sky, then to Peter.

“Isn’t it a Tuesday?” Derek asks, checking.

“Truancy, how delightful. He missed us.” Peter smiles. Peter smiles whether he’s watching dogs frolic in the park or in the midst of gutting someone while they’re watching. 

It’s the little things in life, Derek. 

The boy climbs out of his jeep as they watch on the porch. 

Derek doesn’t like this, how sloppy it is. 

“Skipping are we, Stiles? What would Daddy say?” Peter asks.

The boy rolls his eyes. “I was bored. ‘Daddy’ is too busy with what we did last week to say much right now.” Derek watches the boy make finger quotes. The boy has long fingers.

 

“What does he know?” Derek asks.

“Not much. You guys are good.” The boy shrugs. “They don’t know its three people now, instead of two, that’s the big thing.”

“Is it?” Peter asks, sharp.

“Is it what?” the boy is confused.

“Three people, instead of two.” Derek supplies. 

“We lead a nomadic life, for reasons you can probably imagine.” Peter is casual now. 

“Are you asking me to come with you?” the boy looks to Peter and then to Derek.

“Do you want to?” Derek asks. This sort of delicacy is usually what Peter does, but Derek knows it has to be from both of them. 

This stops the boy cold. The boy usually is doing something, bouncing his leg, rocking on the balls of his feet, tapping his fingers on something, always moving. It’s fascinating to watch. 

“At the risk of quoting Baby’s speech from Dirty Dancing to you, yes.” The boy looks nervous. 

“Then you pick next. One person in your life you’ve always wanted to kill, but never did.” Peter smiles now.

The boy smiles back. 

*

Derek wakes to find the bed empty. The light is on in the bathroom, streaming from the crack under the door.

He opens the door to find Peter lounging in their claw foot tub, which is filled with blood. Peter’s drinking a glass of wine. Derek thinks its wine at least.

“Care to join me?” Peter inquires, swirling his drink. 

Derek slips off his sleep pants and climbs in carefully. He settles against Peter’s chest, reaching back for the glass. 

It is wine, a nice Bordeaux. He gives it back to Peter, their fingers brushing. 

The blood is warm, like being wrapped in silk. 

“I shall miss this when we have to go back to apartment dwelling.” Peter says, regretful. 

Derek hmms his agreement. 

“Hello?” a voice calls out – the boy is skipping again. 

The boy finds them in the tub. 

“Have you ever been fucked in the bath Stiles?” Peter asks, casually. It’s what he does, says things to rile people up like he’s talking about the weather. Derek doesn’t have the patience for it. 

“No.” the boy answers.

“Do you want to?” Derek has his part to play.

The boy grins, taking off his shirt and then the rest of his clothes. 

He gets in, facing them, all leg, like a baby giraffe. 

It’s a tight fit, but Derek fucks him like that and then when they drain the tub and put the shower on, the boy sucks Peter off, pink water swirling around his knobby knees. 

*

“My chemistry teacher is a dick.” The boy says by way of greeting.

It goes fairly quickly after that, Derek is always surprised to find. Quickly or slowly, never how he thinks time is supposed to feel like. 

The boy relishes this kill, is the one doing most of the damage. Peter is indulgent, up to a point. 

Then he has the boy on his hands and knees, only slick hot silk between them.

Derek is starting to appreciate the boy’s mouth.

They torch the boy’s jeep next to the body. 

“The second lesson.” Peter demonstrates, gesturing behind him.

*

Seattle is cold this time of year, Derek thinks. 

They strike at random targets, and soon the city is in a panic. 

Peter likes that part of city living. 

The boy is delighted, even if their apartment is small, even if they don’t see much of each other during the day. He says he only misses his father a little, that this was worth it. 

“Now, now the game truly begins.” Peter says, holding a wallet photo between his fingers. 

A woman with dirty blonde hair smiles at him, glossy and stark. 

“Yes, it has.” Derek says, watching the boy’s curious eyes as he takes the picture.

Once she is dead, they can turn their attention to the boy. 

Maybe they'll decide to let the boy live, keep him.

**Author's Note:**

> There is a lot of character death in this but they are OCs. This is very gorey and there's lots of blood, sex with blood, blood from an outside source implied to have been used as lube. Which you should not do, EVER. 
> 
> Also Derek is very much Not A Nice Person in this, and neither is Stiles.


End file.
